How small life is here and how big nothingness. The sky, tired of light, has given everything to the snow. The two trees bow their heads to each other. Clouds cross the worldβs silence in a circle dance
Robert WalserRead
The novel I am constantly writing is always the same one, and it might be described as a variously sliced-up or torn-apart book of myself.
Interpretation
The quote reflects the idea that our experiences and identity shape our creative expressions, which are never fully complete.
Robert Walser expresses the notion that the act of writing is a continual process of self-exploration and fragmentation. He suggests that every piece of writing is a representation of himself, composed of different elements of his life, thoughts, and experiences, emphasizing the complexity and personal nature of artistic creation.
In practice
In a writing workshop, to inspire students about embracing their unique voices.
How small life is here and how big nothingness. The sky, tired of light, has given everything to the snow. The two trees bow their heads to each other. Clouds cross the worldβs silence in a circle dance
I don't want a future, I want a present. To me this appears of greater value. You have a future only when you have no present, and when you have a present, you forget to even think about the future.
I am not here [in the sanitarium] to write, but to be mad.
Poems infatuated with their own smarts and detached from any emotional grounding can leave the reader feeling lonely, empty and ashamed for having expected more. Like icy adolescents, such poetry is more interested in commiserating than acknowledging that feelings β the sentiments that make us susceptible to sentimentality β actually exist.
A minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.
I think cinema, movies, and magic have always been closely associated. The very earliest people who made film were magicians.
Compare the silent rose of the sun And rain, the blood-rose living in its smell, With this paper, this dust. That states the point.
The pleasure of writing fiction is that you are always spotting some new approach, an alternative way of telling a story and manipulating characters; the novel is such a wonderfully flexible form.
It will not fall away. Man cannot judge it. For art sings of God, and ultimately belongs to Him.
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